


Possible (38/39)

by Mexta



Series: Possible [38]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, TW: homophobic slur, post-412
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:38:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2907947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mexta/pseuds/Mexta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strategy session</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possible (38/39)

Mickey told him about Terry right after they finished. While they were still lying on the couch, Ian on top of him, he blurted it out. “My dad’s getting out soon.”

Ian’s arms, wrapped around Mickey’s shoulder and back, tightened for a second and then released as Ian leaned up, bracing himself on his elbows. “How soon?”

Mickey shook his head and pushed Ian off so he could sit up. He dug around on the coffee table till he found a cigarette and lit it. “Don’t know. Next week, maybe the week after.”

For a moment neither of them spoke. Ian swung himself forward to sit beside Mickey on the couch and Mickey shot him a look, half expecting him to simply walk away, out of the house and away from what was, after all, not his problem.

"He gonna come here?" Ian asked.

"Where else?" Mickey shrugged, handing the cigarette to Ian, but Ian shook shook his head.

"Can we keep him out?"

"It’s his fucking house, man." Mickey thought for a second. "His and Uncle Ronnie’s, I think. It was their mom’s."

"We need to see the deed," Ian said with conviction. He stood up and paced around the room. "First thing."

"Yeah, then what? We leave town?" 

Ian paused in his stride. “We could if we had to. But I’m not letting Terry Milkovich run me out of town. What about Mandy? and Lana and Yev?”

Mickey had a momentary flashback of Svetlana the night before, telling him she had made her choice. “They’re with us,” he said slowly.

"Yeah, and I bet your brothers are too. No one wants Terry back. No one."

"We can’t keep him out by force, not forever. What’re we gonna do, organize a security patrol?"

Ian had his phone out and was texting on it, not listening to Mickey.

"The fuck you doing? You even listenin’ to me?"

"Lip. We need his help."

"Jesus Christ, Ian. Is that your solution to every crisis? Call Lip?"

But Ian just smiled. He looked surprisingly energized, as though the idea of a challenge appealed to him. “We’re two smart college-bound guys — we’ll figure it out, but we might as well get all the brainpower on this we can.”

When Mandy came in a few minutes later and heard the news, she announced calmly that she was leaving. “I’ve got enough for a security deposit,” she said, “and a lead on a place in the north end. I’m gonna go pack.”

She disappeared into her room and Mickey threw some clothes at Ian as the house slowly filled up. Iggy and Colin had heard the same news from their uncle, and filled in Svetlana and Nika when they returned with Yvegeni. By the time Lip came over they were all sitting around the living room, drinking beer and passing the baby around, sharing increasingly far-fetched fantasies for permanently dispatching Terry.

"No one’s bumping him off," Lip said firmly, as soon as he understood the situation. "That’s just gonna ruin your lives. He’s the one who fucked up everyone else; he’s the one whose life we’ve got to ruin."

"How we gonna do that without taking him out?" Iggy asked skeptically. Mickey could see both his brothers wavering, and he knew how they were thinking. They’d love to be rid of Terry too, but they saw him the same way Mickey always had — as implacable and all-powerful, a dominating, irresistible force in their lives. However tempted they were to side with Mickey and Lip and Ian, they still accepted the inevitability of Terry’s ongoing presence in their lives.

Hell, Mickey would have thought the same way if he didn’t have Ian on his side — Ian, his eyes alight with the anticipation of bringing down his worst enemy. Not to mention Lip, obnoxious as ever in his arrogant conviction that he could out-manoeuvre and out-strategize a hulking brute like Terry. Even Svetlana had thrown her lot in with them, and with her cool disdain and pure instinct for self-preservation it was hard to believe she’d ever pick the losing side.

Mickey watched, mesmerized, as Ian and Lip made phone calls, launched google searches on their phones, bounced ideas around so quickly he couldn’t keep up with them. But he didn’t need the details to find himself, for once, doing what none of the Milkovich kids had ever been able to do before — daring to believe that Terry could be beaten.

Finally Lip put his phone down, stubbed his cigarette out in an ashtray, and faced the Milkovich brothers who sat across from him, watching in slack-jawed confusion. “I always wondered why your dad hasn’t been covered by some kind of three-strikes law,” he said. “Turns out Illinois does have one, but only for Class X felonies. We need three convictions in one of those areas — kidnap, armed robbery, sex assault of someone under 13 years old, dealing narcotics near a school or public housing, or home invasion. So what’s he got?”

Colin and Iggy looked at each other, but Mickey didn’t need any help from them. “Armed robbery,” he said promptly. “Four years ago. He got five years, out in six fucking months.”

"Figures." Lip rolled his eyes, and made some kind of note on a piece of paper in front of him. "That’s one. What else?"

Mickey’s shoulders slumped into a shrug. “I don’t —”

"Kidnap," Ian interrupted suddenly.

They all turned to look at him. Ian stood behind the couch, arms folded, his mouth a grim line, and his eyes fixed on Mickey.

In the growing silence, Mickey slowly understood what Ian meant. “No,” he protested weakly. “We can’t — it’ll never … “

Lip’s intent gaze turned toward Mickey. “What’s he talking about?”

"Terry held me at gunpoint," Ian said with the same obstinate conviction. "Wouldn’t let me leave this room."

"When was that?"

Mickey shook his head, walking over to Ian. “It won’t work, man. I’m your only witness. They’ll never believe a _faggot_ caught in the act by his dad.”

Lip stared at Ian. “Is that what happened?”

A small movement in the background caught everyone’s attention. Svetlana looked up from the playpen where she had just set Yvegeni down. “I am witness,” she said coolly. “I testify against Terry too.”

Lip’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s two,” he said, picking up his phone. “Let’s file a report.”


End file.
